A few weeks ago I finally received my long awaited copy of the
1704 edition of Samuel Butler's Hudibras. It has long been a
dream of mine to own such a copy. I found this copy through the
Internet at:
Ron and Isabel Lieberman
The Family Album
At the Old Mill
4887 Newport Road
Kinzers
PA 17535
Phone: 717 442 0220
Internet: RonBiblio@Delphi.com or RareBooks@POBox.com
http://www.abebooks.com/Home/Ronbiblio
RAD Web Page: http://WWW.netrax.net/~rarebook/
This is one of the finest rare book dealers in North America.
And if one is looking for rare books, this is the place to visit.
At having received this exquisite volume of one of the greatest
poems of the 17th century, I would like to share a bit of the
introduction to the poem:
HUDIBRAS
The Firft PART.
WRITTEN
In the Time of the
LATE WARS.
Corrected and Ameded,
With Several
Additions and Annotations.
LONDON:
Printed by E. P. for Geo. Sawbridge, in
Little-Britain, 1704.
TO THE
READER.
Poeta nufcitur non fit, is a Sentance of as great Truth as
Antiquity; it being moft certain, that all the acquir'd
Learning imaginable is infufficient to compleat a Poet, without
a Natural Genius, and Propenfisty to fo a Noble and Sublime
an Art. And we may without Offence obferve that many very
Learned Men, who have been ambitious to be thought Poets, have
only render'd themfelves Obnoxious to that Satyrical Infpiration,
our Author wittily invokes;
Which made them, though it were in fpight
Of Nature, and their Stars to write.
On the other fide, fome who have had very little Human Learning,
but were endued with a large fhare of Natural Wit and Parts,
have become the moft Celebrated Poets of the Age they live in.
Butnas thefe laft are Rarae Aves in Terris, fo when the Mufe
have not difdained the Affiftances of other Arts and Sciences, we are
then blefs'd with thofe lafting Monuments of Wit and Learning, which
may juftly claim a kind of Eternity upon Earth. And our Author, had
his Modefty permitted him, might with Horace, have faid,
Exigi Monumentum Aere perennius;
Or with Ovid,
Jamque opus Exegi, quod nec Jovis ira, nec ignis,
Nec poterit ferrum, nec edax abolere Vetufta.
The Author of this Celebrated Poem, was of this Compofition; for
altho he had not the Happinefs of an Academical Education, as
fome affirm, it may be perceiv'd, throughout his whole Poem,
that he had read much, and was very well accomplifhed in the
moft ufeful Parts of Human Learning.
Rapin (in his Reflections) fpeaking of the neceffary belonging
to a Poet; tells us, he muft have a Genius extraordinary, great
Natural Gifts, a Wit Juft, Fruitful, Piercing, Solid, and Univerfal;
an Underftanding, clean and pleafant; an Elevation of Soul,
that depends not only on Art or Study, but is purely a Gift of
Heaven, which muft be fuftain'd by a lively Senfe and Viracity;
Judgement to confider wifely of Things, and Viracity for the
Beautiful Expreffion of them, &cc.
Now, how juftly this Character is due to our Author, I leave to
the Impartial Reader, and thofe of nicer Judgements, who had the
Happineff to be more intimately aquainted with him.
The Reputation of this Incomparable Poem, is fo throughly
eftablifh'ed in the World, thatit would be fuperfluous, if
not impertinent, to endeavour any Panegyrick upon it. King
Charles II. whom the judicious Part of Mankind will readily
acknowledge to be a Sovereign Judge of Wit, was fo great an
Admirer of it, that he would often pleafantly quote it in his
Conversation: However, fince,moft Men have a Curiofity to have
fome Account of fuch Anonymous Authors, whofe Compofitions
have been Eminent for Wit of Learning; I have been defir'd
to oblidge them with fuch Informations, as I could receive
from thofe who had the Happinefs to be acquainted with him,
and alfo to rectifie the Miftakes of the Oxford Antiquary,
in his Athenae Oxonienfes, concerning him.
Klaus J. Gerken

Brad Evans
recovery
~~~~~~~~
there will be the subtle tactics:
the cold shoulder,
an opportunity for mild annoyance,
and then
the clash will come,
with perhaps
some tears, some screams,
a wall or somebody
will be thumped
and then there'll
be that precious
quiet moment
where
I'll retire to a small room
navigating past
rubbish and papers and unanswered letters.
she will
inhabit the kitchen, close the door,
light a cigarette and draw pictures.
all
it may take
is
a sharp movement from the clock,
(give it 20 mins on a
blue-sky Saturday)
I may give her a peck
on the cheek
and
move
a little
closer
Brad Evans
the
committee
poets
~~~~~~~~~
either
the hard road
becomes too much
or it's the rejection slip
they fear
but you will see them
in cafes
talking
about other writers
and what they
are writing
and
they will bitch and
whinge when the others
get
published.
in a frenzy
they
form groups and committees
and they seek positions
in government-
funded
publishing
houses,
all this
to
defend themselves
from
their imagined literary
attackers,
if they simply sat
themselves
down
in a room
somewhere
to
do
THE THING
they may
find themselves
in
books
and magazines
like
the rest
Brad Evans
grinding
~~~~~~~~
I've learned to grind my teeth...
I don't know,
perhaps it was
that last truck that swayed
past while I was pedalling
down Long Road,
perhaps it's too many days
of thinking rather than doing
I thought poetry was meant
to solve some of these problems
I'm still grinding...
Brad Evans
a good poem
is like
great sex
but without
the dolmio grin
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
you finished the last line
and you
re-read
with vigour
the whole
piece.
'yes'
you shiver
as its tail zips through
your spine
(you can tell it's a
good one)
and you wonder whether you
should
wake
your partner,
you
approach the bedroom door
and then the beastly
noise
jumps you...
no,
it cannot be human
perhaps
a rhino made its way in
5 mins
previous
you open the door and there you find
a grisly scene:
your partner lying there
with mouth
agape,
your eyes are drawn to the
tongue flap-
ping amidst
slop in the breeze,
you
close the bedroom door gently
so
so
gently...
motivation
puts a gun to your head
as you return
to
the
task
Brad Evans
the first,
full green
bottle of beer
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
faces me
from where I sit
and there's a radio
in the corner of the room
where
each of the young,
female singers
take
their turn
to chirp messages
of loss,
of jealousy and
of continual demands for a faith long-failed
from
partners
who have long forgotten them,
partners whom they
have mistaken for gods.
and
I smile
as I lift
this first
full green
bottle of beer
knowing
that the gods had been
pushed
onwards
a
long
time before...
humanity
must have bored the shit
out of them.
Brad Evans
crazy
wanker
in a
28-bunk dormitory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
christ,
he would've been at least
24
and he arrived at about
1am
dropped
his luggage near my bunk
and began to sort out the
folded sheets
on a bunk
above
me.
he worked his way around,
tucked all of the sheets neatly
beneath
the mattress,
fluffed up
his pillow
and he
hadn't even settled
in
before he began to work
himself up
by the length of his strokes
that guy
must have been packing a
savaloy
and I held on
to the sides of my mattress
as
the bunk began to shake
and rattle
and then I began to fight down
a laugh,
but my guts kept
convulsing,
the wanker stopped
wanking
as he sensed the new
disturbance
and while I struggled for some control
he started again
with the bunk shaking
and rattling
I lost control, my guts
convulsing again,
and I thought
of his stupidity
and
my shitty odds,
stuck
here
with
a
crazy
wanker
in a
28-bunk dormitory.
Ken McManus
Comes Love
~~~~~~~~~~
Before that last dream wedged its way into my memory,
Cobwebbed hobgoblin that it was,
I saw the clearest of skies, felt a lightening in my form
Only juxtaposed against the grayness of then
Could I see the contrast glow of now
This woman stepped fully between me and gloom
Rid me of some injurious spirits looming in an aura around me
It was only after 1000 years of her intervening joy
That I saw what I saw and read what I read...
How does one make peace with the peacemaker?
The horizon shifted to a more reasonable level,
Not the chronic ebb and flow of high and low
But the ease of naturalness and sympathy
Air pulled into the lungs more gracefully
Shackles of hesitancy shook, broken, to the floor
The hard-eyed reflection of self jutted out at me from mirrors
The work of mining deeply within, beyond the sheen, stunned me
Emotions sifted down into deeper tissue, like muscles recoiling and
relaxing after their work
The head cleared and continents pulled in close to embrace
All reason took its place, beside chance and joy
Uneven gasps from the cloud of sleep
Calm relief in the sun's greeting
The latitude of promise running from me to her
Her to me, her the anchor
Wonder, for a moment's notice, pausing to look at me through the window.
Farzana Moon
A Glorious Feast
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cast of Characters:
Pharaoh: The sovereign of Egypt
Yusuf: The Hebrew patriarch--the son of Jacob
Aziz: The governor of Egypt
Zulaikha: The wife of Aziz
Two prisoners: Pharaoh's former baker and butler
Two ladies: Friends of Zulaikha
Scene: A royal parlor in the home of the Pharaoh.
One Egyptian screen divides the stage into two portions. One
portion is a prison cell, its contents visible through the steel
bars. Two beds of straw with rough blankets are pushed close to
the walls on each side, with ample room in the middle for walking.
The other portion is revealing a large parlor. One square table
in the middle is covered with a gold cloth, holding a fruit
arrangement as a centerpiece. A gilded davenport to the right is
smothered with satiny pillows. A velvet couch in shade of scarlet
faces the square table, and two matching chairs scattered on each
side. One imposing mantelpiece in the background is cluttered
with Egyptian censers and pottery.
When the curtain opens, Zulaikha is seen lolling against one green
pillow on the davenport. She is laughing, her posture seductive
and tempting. Yusuf is pacing. Suddenly, he flashes her a look
of reproof and impatience.
Yusuf: Do you know who I am?
Zulaikha: (Mirthfully) A cruel man! A handsome man! And a
heartless man!
Yusuf: (To himself) A Hebrew slave. The child of God! Still a
child! No, no...not a man?
Zulaikha: (Heedlessly) Since we don't seem to know each other,
do you know who I am?
Yusuf: (Smiling) How could I forget! Zulaikha, they call thee?
The beautiful wife of my kind master, the governor of Egypt.
Zulaikha: (Sweetly) Yet my husband has exalted thee, Yusuf.
Exalted thee above all, like some king of the mountains?
Yusuf: (Murmuring to himself) A king! A man, indeed! A
wretched man! A child of God! A child, lost to his father?
Zulaikha: (Stifling her mirth) Are you going to entertain me
with the stories of your childhood, or with your lips divine?
Yusuf: (Not meeting her gaze) My lips, if they be divine, my
fair temptress, have the power to please many, but thee, no.
A thousand times, no!
Zulaikha: (Cupping her chin with both hands) Oh, how even the
gods mock me! I shall be pleased, if not entertained, Yusuf.
With words, if not with kisses, since that seems to be your
command and pleasure? How long have I been pleading for your
love, years, centuries? And keep this in mind, Yusuf, no man
has ever spurned my favors or escaped my charms. But I will be
your sweet audience, yearning to walk with you from the steps of
your childhood to the threshold of your adolescence and manhood.
Tell me, I want to know all. I might get to know you, to understand
your piety and brute asceticism? To understand why you reject the
jewels of my love. If only you knew their worth?
Yusuf: (Dreamily) Your protestations of love! How long have
you been tormenting me...years, eons? And you don't even know
me? And yet, the story of a bondsman's past will not interest
thee. No, you don't want to hear it.
Zulaikha: (Her eyes shot open) It would interest me immensely,
Yusuf! I am longing to hear it. I might be able to solve this
puzzle, this mystery...why can't you love me?
Yusuf: You dream of puzzles and mysteries yourself, Zulaikha!
Can't you see the simple fact that you are the wife of Aziz, who
happens to be my master and much more than that, the governor of
Egypt. How can a man like me! A slave and a bondsman dare sin
against his master...and against his God?
Zulaikha: (Sadly) Love is never sinful, Yusuf, you have yet to
learn another simple fact of life. Love is always pure and
beautiful, and gods bless those who love truly! Truly and
sinfully, if you must have it that way, but then gods forgive--
lovers, always forgive. No, don't let me plead anymore, just
let me walk back with you to the valleys of your childhood and
youth?
Yusuf: (As if drifting in a dream) I am the son of Jacob in the
line of God's men from Adam to Noah, to Abraham and Issac. We
are twelve brothers. I am number eleven in succession, the
oungest one is named Benjamin. When I was young, my father loved
me the most, and my child-brother Benjamin, of course. I love
Benjamin too, he is dearer to me than my own life. Well, when I
was young, my father made me a coat of many colors with his own
hands. I loved that coat and I loved my father, still do. I used
to tell him all my dreams. The last dream which I shared with him
was the one in which I could see clearly the sun, the moon and
eleven stars, all these luminaries making obeisance to me. My
father heard this dream and was afraid, fearing for me, for my
life. He said I was blessed with holy wisdom...with wisdom to
dream and to interpret dreams? I was young then, very young.
Can't even remember where I lived, the land of Canaan, though
most of childhood was spent there. All I remember is the jealousy
of my brothers, because my father loved me. One evening all us
brothers went to feed the flocks in Sheehem. I can still vividly
picture myself coming out of the vale of Hebron, and then into
the valley of Dothan. After that, my memory becomes dark and
feeble. I was at the bottom of a deep, empty well. Later, much
later, I learned that my brothers wanted to kill me. They were
the ones who had pushed me into that well. They wanted me to die
in there undiscovered. But then merchants from Gilead came and
they sold me to the Ishmeelites for twenty dirhems. Those
merchants brought me to Egypt. And you know the rest...those
same merchants sold me to your husband. And what do I learn, he,
the richest governor employed by the Pharaoh himself, and...
{While Yusuf is talking and pacing, Zulaikha steals behind him,
throwing her arms around him in an act of kissing.}
Yusuf: (Wrenching himself free) Oh, shameless harlot!
{Yusuf turns to flee, but Zulaikha catches the end of his robe.
His silk robe is ripped, and Zulaikha is left with a torn piece
clutched in her hands. Aziz storms into the room, almost
colliding with Yusuf, whose attempt at flight is checked.}
Zulaikha: (Lamenting suddenly) Aziz, look! This Hebrew slave
of yours is attempting to seduce thy wife.
{Aziz stands there in a paroxysm of shock and disbelief. His
gaze lingering over Yusuf, then settling on his wife. He seems
fascinated by the gleam of tears shining in her eyes, his own
gaze gliding from her face down to her hands. Noticing a torn
piece of silk through her fingers, a shadow of pain crosses his
features, as if a serpent of evidence had stung his very heart.
His voice torn between rage and restraint flutters in one wisp of
a command.}
Aziz: Zulaikha, clam yourself. And leave us, please.
{As Zulaikha stumbles toward the door, Aziz snatches the shard of
silk from her hands. Both men stand facing each other in mute
abeyance. A blaze of pity from Aziz's eyes and of defiance from
Yusuf's erecting a thick wall between them.}
Aziz: Turn around, Yusuf.
Yusuf: Sire!
{Yusuf obeys reluctantly. Aziz's gaze is fixed to the mutilated
robe, the torn piece in his own hand falling to the floor. His
voice is thick and gentle as he speaks.}
Aziz: What do you have to say in your defense?
Yusuf: (Whirling back) That God is my witness!
Aziz: (Sadly) Which God? The God of the Hebrews?
Yusuf: The One and the Only God.
Aziz: (A thin smile crossing his lips) Strange, this idea of
one God? So, it appears, my wife did...well? I find thee
blameless...you deserve a robe of honor, if not a new silk robe.
God! this idea of one God fascinates me. We have many gods in
Egypt. And goddess' too, with...
{Pharaoh storms into the room, towering above both men like a
Master of Fate.}
Pharaoh: Your wife in tears, Aziz, and here you are talking
with...with this Hebrew slave?
Aziz: (Curtsying) Great Pharaoh.
Yusuf: (Simultaneously) Great Pharaoh.
Pharaoh: (To Yusuf) I remember you. I never forget a face.
You are that Hebrew slave...oh, yes, are you not the one
believing in some strange god, who claims to be the only One on
earth and in heavens? You must come to the temple of Isis one
day. It is an honor sublime to gaze upon the beauty of this
goddess. She is the Virgin Mother. Her son, Horus, is the holy
child, the miracle of a Virgin Birth. She is carved in ivory
and marble, pure and sweet, holding her son. Our own, very own,
Madonna and the Child.
{Aziz is lost in some profound contemplations of his own, while
Yusuf exclaims eagerly.}
Yusuf: Virgin Birth, Great Pharaoh, if I may be as bold as to
speak? When I was young, a stranger came to our house, telling
us strange tales. I heard him explain the customs of his own
land. He said that when a maiden is betrothed to a lad, the
couple has to wait a long, long time before they are wedded.
During this lapse of time between engagement and wedding, if the
young couple can't restrain their passions, and the maiden
conceives. She, the unwedded bride is sent to a distant cave to
give birth. When the child is born, she returns, and is welcomed
by her family and friends. This child of hers is considered
holy, for they consider such conception and birth as Virgin
Birth. Then she is wedded with all propitious rites, claiming
the title of Virgin Mother?
Pharaoh: (Laughing) That stranger must never have visited Egypt,
otherwise, he could not dare malign the wills of the gods!
Egypt is the land of milk and honey. Sacred as the Nile. More
pure than the virgin dawns, which emerge and dissolve out of
their unwedded joys like the celestial mists. We Egyptians are
poets and dreamers. I came to share my dream with...yes, with
Aziz. We Egyptians dream a lot, and I mean real, wholesome
dreams. And not enough holy men to interpret such dreams. Yes,
my Hebrew slave, not enough diviners to unveil these dreams. I
don't have the power to interpret dreams either, though I am the
god of Egypt. We Egyptians are seers, magicians, architects.
Now watch and behold the power of my own miracles...and
divinations. No dreams, just perception honed and polished.
(Raises his right arm above his head) The miracle of life and
death! Of Light and Darkness. Darkness descends upon us all,
if our Hebrew slaves dare seduce the wives of Egyptian nobility?
{The entire stage is dissolved in darkness. When the lights
return, Zulaikha is seen pacing feverishly. Two young ladies
are seated on the couch, watching her intently, rather amusedly.
Still pacing, Zulaikha begins to talk and laugh under the spell
of some swoon and delirium.}
Zulaikha: You accuse me of being faithless to my lord, my
husband? I am under some evil spell, you say? Wait, till you
see the godlike face of my tormentor? I have invited him here
today, so that you can see for yourself. You can see the
sorcerer! The magician! The merciless god himself! You will
be smitten by the arrows of Cupid in his gaze, I assure you.
As soon as he sails in here, you will be groveling at his feet
like the most abject of slaves. Your sanity ravished, and your
desires wild and blazing!
1st Lady: (Tossing a grape in her mouth) He is a slave, isn't
he, just a Hebrew slave? Why should you waste your charms on
some base insect like him? You are the wife of our illustrious
governor, you seem to forget. Any prince in Egypt would be
honored to kiss your feet, if you but...
Zulaikha: (Interrupting wildly) But, maybe, however, oh, such
meaningless words! What prides and honors? Such torments
indescribable! Have you ever suffered the sting of despair and
anguish?
2nd Lady: (Sanctimoniously) Oh, this atrocious scandal, the
canards floating around? The governor's wife in love with...
dare I say it? How can your husband still love you, and I know
he does, is beyond me?
Zulaikha: (Heedlessly) Husband! How strange this word sounds?
He loves me not, but that Hebrew slave? He deems Yusuf chaste
and his own wife, a harlot? Oh, Yusuf, even his name tastes
sweet on my lips. If I can't win his love, I want him tossed
into some dungeon dark and loathsome. Banished from my sight,
forever and eternally! Living in some foul tomb, where no
chink of light ever enters...yes, he will be exiled and buried
in such a tomb. Oh, vile, wicked thoughts. Perdition upon
perdition. How black is my sorrow and how corrupt the soot of
my vengeance!
1st Lady: (All agog) Is the Governor, your husband, not jealous?
Zulaikha: Jealous! Aziz? No, a thousand times, no. He would
be, if I fell in love with the Pharaoh, but then? Oh, wretched
me, what am I saying?
1st Lady: (Assiduously) Just a Hebrew slave, as I said. Have
him whipped, and then castrated! Don't you prefer eunuchs, if
you know what I mean?
Zulaikha: (Passionately) A slave! Holy Isis, no? He is a
king. I am his slave, a lowly slave! obedient and devoted.
Waiting, waiting... (Snatches apples from the basket and dumps
one each in their plates beside the knives) You may peel and eat
these apples only after he comes, not before. I have prepared a
glorious feast for us all, later, later! You will be fed and
feasted, don't worry...
{Yusuf enters nonchalantly. He is smiling to himself. Zulaikha
sails up to him, greeting him effusively.}
Zulaikha: Yusuf.
Yusuf: (With one mock curtsy) My Lady.
{The two ladies sit there rapt and speechless. They can't take
their eyes off from the face of this mortal god. They seem
transported to some enchanted land, where nothing exists, but
Love and Light. Motionless, they sit and gaze. Oblivious even
to their own will-less effort in cutting the apples. They have
cut the tender skin of their fingers instead. Feeling neither
pain, nor the hot trickle of tiny beads, staining their hands
with blood. Zulaikha claims Yusuf's hands, turning back, with
the intention of introducing him to her friends. At the sight of
blood, she covers her eyes, exclaiming.}
Zulaikha: Holy Isis, look at you! How can you blame me...
blaming me for falling in love? Look at your hands, bruised and
bleeding. Oh, now my own heart is bleeding.
{The ladies are startled to awareness. Aghast and stunned.
Hiding their hands behind their backs, they leap to their feet.
Their eyes are lit up with the lamps of shame and contrition, but
no words escape their lips. Yusuf's own gaze is smoldering with
the fire of stars bright and poignant, as he thinks aloud.}
Yusuf: What mockery is this, fair ladies? I came here with no
intention of injury, but hoping to make friends?
Zulaikha: (Whirling to face Yusuf and flashing daggers with her
eyes) Oh, injury most sweet! Oh, you base, pitiless sorcerer!
How you stand there calm and unmoved? Does your cold heart throb
not with pity? Oh, cruel man! Heartless man! (Her hands in an
act of striking him fall limp to her sides as she notices Aziz
storm into the parlor)
Aziz: Witches' Sabbath is quieter than this den of iniquity!
What bedlam is this, rocking the halls of our Pharaoh?
Zulaikha: (Hysterically) Look, Aziz, look! Look, what your
Hebrew slave has done? Woven the spell of sorcery over all?
Look, how the hands of my friends are bruised and bleeding?
Aziz: (Pale and aghast) Do you plead not-guilty to this charge,
Yusuf, answer me!
Yusuf: (Calmly) In the eyes of man, I may seem guilty. But in
the eyes of my God...
Aziz: (Interrupting with one violent gesture of his arm) Curse
the gods! What God? You stand condemned!
Zulaikha: (Beating her husband's chest with small fists) No,
Aziz, no! In the holy name of Isis, no...
Aziz: (Pushing his wife away) Leave me alone, you harlot most
wretched. Or, you would be invoking the wrath of the very god,
while my own would ferment vengeance.
{The Pharaoh makes a breezy entrance. The flames of displeasure
in his eyes wild and blazing. He charges toward Aziz.}
Pharaoh: What blasphemy do I hear in my holy palace? This is my
home, my sacred temple! What heresy is escaping thy lips...
cursing the gods?
{Aziz bends double in a low curtsy. Yusuf lowers his head as his
mark of curtsy. The ladies stand there stunned, rather
terror-stricken. Aziz springs straight, exclaiming feverishly.}
Aziz: Great Pharaoh, my Hebrew slave here...is convicted on the
charges of sorcery. He must be condemned to death, or lifetime
imprisonment.
Pharaoh: (Thundering) Cast him into a dungeon most vile and
dark! We don't need sorcerers. We need seers, diviners! Sages
and saints who have the power to interpret dreams! (Waving his
arms imperiously) Oh, my dreams...who can touch and unfold my
dreams? Is there even one wise man in this jungle of Egypt who
could bestow speech to my dreams...cure my melancholia? Yes,
yes, throw him into prison, whatever you will, Aziz. Now follow
me.
Zulaikha: (Kneeling before Pharaoh and clutching at the hem of
his robe) No, Great Pharaoh, no!
Pharaoh: (Flashing rage and disbelief) How dare? How dare you
challenge the Pharaoh's command? (Raises his right arm over his
head) Watch, how darkness descends on grief and sorrow.
Zulaikha: (Lamenting) Spare him, Great Pharaoh! Save him from
the indignity of prison gates.
{Darkness descends on the stage, literally. When the lights
return, Yusuf is pacing in his cell behind the bars. Two more
prisoners are seen squatted on their straw-beds. They are
watching Yusuf, their eyes glittering. One prisoner is waving
his arm to catch Yusuf's attention.}
1st Prisoner: So, what is your offense? Were you not the
favorite of the Governor?
Yusuf: (Absently, to himself) Perfidy. Sorcery. Disloyalty!
Fornication?
2nd Prisoner: (Hilariously) Don't you wonder why you are not
stoned to death, or crucified? What a sight, if you were impaled
alive on a gibbet?
Yusuf: (Pacing and murmuring) A great wonder yet, that this
life draws breath from death!
1st Prisoner: (Heedlessly) What perfidy, if that's what it is I
am thinking of?
Yusuf: (Dreamily) When reality is stripped naked of the garments
of illusion, that must be the kind of perfidy, I mean.
1st Prisoner: You sure know how to talk in parables. What
disloyalty?
Yusuf: When the blade of truth casts off its raiments stitched
with lies!
1st Prisoner: I don't understand parables. Are you a sorcerer?
Yusuf: Weaving dreams into the tapestry of Reality, if that is
sorcery? The prophecy of the deluded where no delusions breed.
1st Prisoner: No more parables, young comrade, we are simple
folks. Did you commit adultery?
Yusuf: (Deliriously) If untruth can seduce virtue, then my soul
is the very harlot of lies!
{Suddenly, Yusuf halts in the middle of the cell, staring vacantly
at the wall. The other prisoner, caught in a volley of mirth,
explodes forth.}
2nd Prisoner: Tell us, friend, tell us some more lies. You have
lost your mind, I reckon. How long has it been since you saw the
light of the day?
Yusuf: Only a moment long, in truth. And that is an eternity.
2nd Prisoner: I have heard you can interpret dreams. Do you?
Yusuf: If dreams speak the language of the souls!
2nd Prisoner: What soul?
Yusuf: (Pacing and thinking aloud) The one soul. The very same
one. The soul, tossed into the fires of perdition, along with
the shadows of lies, dreams, illusions!
1st Prisoner: (Abruptly and impatiently) Quiet, I say, quiet!
Not another word. You think you are a philosopher, don't you?
(Suddenly meek and remorseful) I mean...I say this as a friend.
You are my friend...and a philosopher, I reckon. How long have
you been dreaming...I mean...this philosophy, what is it? I
have heard the guards say, you worship some strange God. Only
one God, fancy that? And they say, you are wise and you know a
lot. Can you see right through the thin air? I mean, right
into the eyes of the future. This prison is turning me into a
poet, though my friend here thinks, I curse and blaspheme?
1st Prisoner: I am a poet myself! You are right though you do
curse and blaspheme and I don't.
Yusuf: (To 1st Prisoner) More accursed you then, for poets get
their inspiration from the devil.
2nd Prisoner: (Laughing) And dreamers, from the pants of Lucifer
himself! Though I myself have baked quite a few dreams in the
royal kitchen of the Pharaoh. Have tasted their bitterness too,
rising like the balls of sourdough. I was a baker, you know, my
dreamer friend. Come, sit by me, I will tell you my dream,
though it has little to do with baking.
Yusuf: (Hysterically) Dreams, dreams and more dreams! I have
been living dreams since I was born.
2nd Prisoner: Now, friend, mind you! You are raving. Get your
wits together, listen.
{The 1st Prisoner shakes his head violently, his eyes shining
with agog and excitement. Yusuf's mirth is truncated suddenly.
His eyes are turned to the ceiling as if he is suspended in some
daze. Though his expression is bright and profound.}
2nd Prisoner: (Reluctantly) I dreamt last night...
1st Prisoner: (Interrupting) You dream every night, nothing new,
the same fuzzy dreams! Our friend here, and you too, should be
listening to what I have to tell. Are you listening, my friend?
(Continues without waiting for any response) Oh, such a beautiful
dream! I have never dreamt like this before. A great, big vine
in my dream. And on this vine three branches. And it was as
though it budded. And her blossoms shot forth. And clusters
thereof brought forth ripe grapes.
2nd Prisoner: (Grinning to himself and seeking Yusuf's attention)
Listen to him...he was a butler in the household of the Pharaoh,
couldn't you tell? And in his time, he had mixed many such dreams
in many cups of wine.
Yusuf: (Speaking in a trance) The three branches of the vine are
three days. Within three days, Pharaoh will restore thee to thy
place, and you will be his cup-bearer again.
1st Prisoner: (Leaping to his feet and exclaiming) Praised be
Ra, Hapi, Ptah, Khnemu and all the gods in Egypt! Pharaoh's
birthday is coming up. I knew it, I knew it. Now I know I will
be released.
2nd Prisoner: (Hastily) Now, friend, listen to my dream! Don't
shut me out? Are you listening? My dream will make even the
Pharaoh come crawling to me. Are you listening, tell me, you are?
Yusuf: (Drowsily) I am listening, I am listening. Now say
something or I will fall asleep for sure.
2nd Prisoner: Oh, yes, let me think. In my dream, well, I saw
myself in my dream. Three white baskets on my head. On the top
basket there were so many bakemeats for the Pharaoh. Oh, and the
birds, they did eat them out of the basket on my head!
Yusuf: (Tonelessly) The three baskets are three days. Yet,
within three day, the Pharaoh will hang thee on a tree. And the
birds will eat thy flesh from off thee.
2nd Prisoner: (Shuddering and stumbling to his feet) Holy gods!
What evil fates you see in my dream, that's not true? I myself
will cook Pharaoh in hot oil, and carrion will tear his own flesh
from his bones. (With a frantic wave of his arms at both men)
You two will be roasting in the fires of hell, while I will be
the one, free, free! (Raises his right hand over his head) I
am a magician and sorcerer too! Just like the Pharaoh of Egypt.
Watch and tremble. How darkness visits you both with the swords
of death?
Yusuf: (Smiling to himself) Life itself will be revealed from
darkness, from the very tomb of death.
{The whole stage is enveloped in darkness. When the lights
return, Yusuf is alone in his cell. His head is cradled between
his knees and hands. Zulaikha steals closer to the dark cell.
The two ladies from the first scene linger behind. They stand
still, watching and whispering.}
Zulaikha: (Softly) And why do you still choose this prison as
your accursed abode, when the Pharaoh has ordered your release?
{Zulaikha stumbles into the cell, and sinks down on the cot
opposite Yusuf. Yusuf is startled to his feet, his gaze unseeing.}
Yusuf: This is my first home, a peaceful one! My sanctuary, from
the prison of temptation?
Zulaikha: (Laughing) Do I still tempt thee.
Yusuf: (Pacing) With your ignorance!
Zulaikha: Alas, in my ignorance, I have chosen chaperons to
watch my shame.
Yusuf: (Heedlessly) And I a shameless wretch choose to be
tempted by a chaste wife. And she will stay chaste, if I am her
only victim, suffering the guiles of her beauty! You need not
woo a condemned man, my lady.
Zulaikha: (Protesting) I didn't come here to woo thee, love!
But to grind some sense into your slavish head! The Pharaoh
commands your presence. And if you do not obey, the lions are
ready to feed on your flesh. You will be flayed alive first, of
course.
{Yusuf keeps pacing without saying a word. He seems oblivious
to his surroundings, not even aware of his own pacing. Zulaikha
watches him sadly, rather apprehensively. Then murmurs aloud to
herself.}
Zulaikha: I should have known? The two prisoners who were
released, told me so. He is demented and delirious, they said?
Yusuf: (Suddenly) Where did those two prisoners go? Were they
released, really?
Zulaikha: (Sadly) Yes, of course. Fulfilling your prophecy to
the hilt. Meeting their destiny most obediently. The body and
soul of the baker are as dry as bones. Though he could be
thinking, if alive, that he was hanging from a tree of life?
The cup-bearer, happily reinstalled in the service of the pharaoh,
serving wine from the gold flagons.
{Yusuf keeps pacing and seems not to be listening. Zulaikha
tosses her head to one side in one impatient gesture, her voice
soft and imploring.}Zulaikha: Yusuf, do you even know? Do you
know that you have been released from the prison by the orders of
our solar, he must have at least two birthdays in a year?
Zulaikha: (With a joyless smile) A yearly birthday, but a third
one since those two wretches were released.
Yusuf: So, that's how long it has been since my so-called friends
got the time to plead my cause to the Pharaoh? I have been
dreaming, is that it? For two whole years?
Zulaikha: (Apprehensively) Are you raving again, Yusuf? For
how long have you been dreaming, can you say that again?
Yusuf: For nine hundred and sixty-nine years.
Zulaikha: (Hysterically) You must be Methuselah's younger
brother then...a mere lad even with that many years behind? He
was your brother in divinations, wasn't he? Believe my, Yusuf,
since you have been languishing in the prison, I have been
schooling myself in the Scriptures sacred and profane. Your idea
of one God, and your God himself sounds very jealous and wrathful?
Yusuf: (Deliriously) My God, the most holy of all holies! The
One and Only! The Omniscient and the Omnipresent, and
Omnipotent! The only Friend of us all sinners. He is the father
of all holiness. Without His Divine aid we cannot survive.
Zulaikha: Was Lot no holy. Why didn't your God save his wife?
Did your God ever lift a finger to save you from this dungeon of
Yusuf: (Whirling back to face her) Did the Pharaoh send you to
test my faith? Or, does he wish to challenge it by the rod of
cruelty and kindness both?
Zulaikha: I don't take commands from the Pharaoh, Yusuf! But I
did come on my own to offer you a kind suggestion. And that is,
you must leave this abode of darkness, and return to the Pharaoh.
Yusuf: (Laughing) Why? Is the Pharaoh dreaming again?
Zulaikha: Always dreaming!
Yusuf: Then I must practice my magic which I have learned from
the Pharaoh himself. (Raising his right hand over his head)
Come, darkness! Find a home away from the light of this fair
beauty.
{Darkness envelops the stage. The lights return to the scene in
the parlor. Aziz and Yusuf are seated on a couch. The Pharaoh
is installed on a velvet chair. The former prisoner, now a
cup-bearer, is replenishing Pharaoh's jeweled cup with wine.
Aziz is sipping wine from his own gold cup. Yusuf is seated on
the other matching chair, forlorn and thoughtful. His gaze is
fixed to the marble statuette of Isis on the center table.
Pharaoh drains his goblet absently, turning his attention to
Yusuf.}
Pharaoh: You have a great talent for interpreting dreams, my
Hebrew salve, it is fascinating! You have a divine gift. How
you interpreted the dreams of those two prisoners, is beyond
belief! Unfortunately, you were kept in prison much longer than
those two released on my birthday. They were both released, it's
true, but what punishment was to land on the One and what mercy
bestowed on the Other, your foresight is astounding? One is
standing before thee as a living proof of your divination, and
the other hanging somewhere between heaven and earth. God knows,
where? You must have guessed why I summoned you here. Yes,
dreams, dreams and more dreams. I have been having this one
dream, rather two at one time, night after night, and no seer,
sage or High Priest in all of Egypt have been able to divine
their meaning. I expect you to interpret these dreams, and you
will receive rewards greater than your own dreams.
Yusuf: (Humbly) Rewards, Great Pharaoh, are from God alone.
And with the divine will of my own God, I will be able to catch
the message of your dreams.
Pharaoh: (Impatiently) Then invoke your God for Grace and
Knowledge, o divine slave, and heed carefully. (Reminiscently)
In my dream I was standing by the river. And behold, there came
up out of the river seven well favored kine and fatfleshed. And
they fed in a meadow. And behold, seven other kine came up
after them out of the river, ill favored and lean fleshed. And
stood by the other kine upon the brink of the river. I was
awakened then, and drifting back into sleep, dreaming this other
dream. Behold, seven ears of corn came up on one stalk, rank
and good. And behold, seven thin ears and blasted with the east
wind sprang up after them. And the seven thin ears devoured the
seven rank and full ears.
Yusuf: (Dreamily) Both these dreams, Great Pharaoh, are but
one.
Pharaoh: (Holding out his cup for replenishing) I knew that,
my royal perception whispered to me.
Aziz: (Cheerfully) Now, we will be getting closer to the
paradox of these dreams!
Yusuf: (Trancelike) The seven good kine are seven years. And
the seven good ears are seven years. And the seven thin and ill
favored kine that came up after them are seven years. And the
seven empty ears blasted with the east wind will be seven years
of famine. There will come seven years of great plenty throughout
all the land of Egypt. And there will rise after them seven
years of famine. And all the plenty will be forgotten in the
land of Egypt. And the famine will consume the land. And the
plenty will not be known in the land by the reason of that famine
following. For it shall be very grievous.
Pharaoh: (Declaring) Ah, what clairvoyance you reveal, o wise
slave! We will not let this famine gnaw at the soul of Egypt.
You are wise and divinely inspired, my Hebrew salve. No, no
slave, but a king! Yes, a king, and king of kings of all
kingdoms. From this day on, you will rule Egypt with your gifts
of wisdom and divination. (Slips his signet ring off and holds
it out to Yusuf) With this ring as your talisman, you have the
power to rule over all Egypt. Great will be my power on the
throne of Egypt, while your power of wisdom will wield the land
and revenue. Accept this boon of power and rejoice. I even
confess, if not blaspheme, that greater is your God than all the
gods in Egypt.
Yusuf: (Curtsying low and claiming the ring) Thank you, Great
Pharaoh! The greatest reward from God's own Mercy.
Aziz: (Concealing his jealousy in mirth) Welcome to Egypt,
Yusuf, as a free man. Brother!
Yusuf: (Beaming) Thank you, sire.
Pharaoh: (To Yusuf) Gold, fine linen and vestures are yours to
command. And chariots and treasures too. During those seven
years of plenty, you will gather and store all grain in the
granaries. And for the next seven, you will be able to feed the
gluttony of famine with your own wisdom and purity of heart.
(Becoming aware of Aziz's silence and sadness, and laughing)
What gloom sits on your brow, Aziz? Don't you find Yusuf worthy
Aziz: (Humbly) The purest, Great Pharaoh. No man in Egypt can
claim to have such a pure heart and mind!
Pharaoh: No man, yes! Not even a saint in the great tomb of
Thebes can match his noble character. (Flashing a mischievous
look at Aziz) You have to admit, Aziz, that no man in my entire
court can't help but fall in love with lovely Zulaikha! With the
exception of the Pharaoh, of course. Are you still in love with
your wife, Aziz, tell me?
Aziz: Much too much, Great Pharaoh! Like a devotee at the
shrine of some goddess. Much like an abject slave, in fact! So
much so, that at times I can't endure the agony...the fetters!
Pharaoh: (Laughing) That kind of love is beyond Pharaoh's
comprehension! I must remain the master in love and in
everything which I possess. Warring many a loves within and
emerging forth like a victor, always! Brandishing the laurels
of passions insatiate and insatiable like some mad, merciless
god of wars and loves. (Shifting his attention to Yusuf) You
must be wedded, my young cavalier, now that you are the savior of
Egypt. Pharaoh, in his head, has already chosen a bride for thee.
One lovely daughter of the High Priest. Her name is Asenath,
this name worthy of her beauty. You are permitted to choose an
auspicious day for the wedding, and the whole Egypt will hear
the wedding bells of joy and feasting.
Yusuf: (Nervously) I...Great Pharaoh! I mean...am honored.
But...
Pharaoh: (Laughing) This land of milk and honey will not let
thee stay celibate! There is no famine of beautiful maidens in
the heart of Egypt, ever, not ever! Such a garden blooms here
eternally. By the grace of God, of all gods...by the command of
the Pharaoh.
Yusuf: I need...time, Great Pharaoh. To think...
Pharaoh: (Impatiently) Think? Egyptians never think, but act!
We believe in action, erecting temples, pyramids, great tombs!
Our hearts rising aloft, beyond timelessness. Into the glorious
abodes of the gods and goddess' themselves.
Yusuf: (Softly) There is only one God, Great Pharaoh. And to
reach Him, one needs not rise high, but sink low. Deeper and
deeper into the oceans of humility and surrender. Only when one
tastes the morsel of humility that one experiences the Presence
Pharaoh: (With sudden ire) What strange paradoxes men nurture
in thoughts mindless! (Gets to his feet, his hand poised over
his head) O Sons of Darkness, Pharaoh commands you to cast a
veil of blackness over the eyes of the Sons of Light. Time will
rest there for seven years of plenty, followed by seven years of
famine, till the Nile itself will gather moonlit tides to
absolve all dreams, famines, illusions! Lending the jewel of
Egypt the gleam of Bliss, Purity, Wisdom.
{Aziz and Yusuf rise to their feet as the one bewitched.
Darkness envelops the stage. When the lights return, Yusuf is
seen leaning against the wall of his former prison. He is
immersed deep in thought. The cup-bearer approaches him
unnoticed.}
Cup-bearer: Why do you seek the walls of the prison when the
palace of Great Pharaoh welcomes you with open arms?
Yusuf: (Startled) To contemplate my sorrow!
Cup-bearer: What sorrows you have when our Great Pharaoh the god
bestows on you his favors and fortunes? You ride his Second
Chariot, all gilded and tapestried. Wear the finest linen in
all Egypt! Gold chains embellished with most precious jewels are
yours to display or discard? You rule over Egypt. Men bow
before you like lowly slaves. Even the kings do the same when
they need your riches more than your wisdom? Seven long years,
how quickly they are gone! And I have heard the grain in your
granaries is hoarded like the nuggets of gold. You are wise,
they all say! And this wisdom alone earns you the title of a
king. What more can a man want, except the love of a woman?
And you have that too. Well, you know what I mean? The daughter
of the High Priest is pining for your love, while you make
yourself scarce. Trooping from one city to the other in pursuit
of your love for gold, I mean, corn. Hey, when do we hear the
wedding bells? (Edging closer and touching Yusuf's sleeve) This
is the finest linen I have ever seen on any man's sleeve in
Egypt. And those gold bangles, what fortunes you carry on your
arms?
Yusuf: (Jerking away his arm) Pity, that you do not see the
rags in fortunes in which my soul is clothed.
Cup-bearer: (Jumping back with a broad smile) If those rags
are like the coat of many colors which your father made for you,
then I am curious to see those rags, as well as the riches?
Yusuf: (To himself) White grief bleeding through the color red
in wounds.
Cup-bearer: Now I believe what they say, you are a poet too! I
may not be wise, but I know what your grief is. You are mourning
for the living. Longing to be with your old father. He is alive,
isn't he? Your brothers too, who came to buy the grain? They
didn't recognize you, though. Wonder, why you didn't tell them?
Some say you are the Prince of Darkness, don't believe myself,
mind you. Your brothers are just a little short of cold-blooded
murderers, you have to admit. They took your coat of many colors
and dumped you in an empty well. Then sold you...what, for a few
dirhems? You must be mad, I reckon, filling their sacks with
corn and returning their money too hidden in their sacks? And
happily they sail back to Canaan! Maybe there is a method to
your madness, who knows? Your favorite, youngest brother was not
there, and you commanded them to bring him along if they dared
come back? Are you afraid now, that they would never return?
Benjamin, isn't that the name of your favorite brother? You
might never see him, or your dear father? Why don't you go to
Canaan yourself? It would be better if you saw them...yes, you
will feel better if you go to Canaan.
Yusuf: (Pacing and thinking aloud) Go to Canaan! How, when
Pharaoh needs me the most, here? Now, that is, more than ever.
Cup-bearer: (Chuckling) No one needs anyone in this world
absolutely, you are wise, you should know that. The world
doesn't go round and round chasing men, but fates do...how is
this for a golden saying for a man like me who is not wise?
Yusuf: (To himself) Fates conspire and challenge. But Destiny,
it gathers all in its bosom without a threat or warning. Though
even the webs of fate, or the hands of destiny, all succumb to
the will of one God. And in the end, it doesn't matter if one
obeys or disobeys, for all are brought to obedience by the divine
will of one and only God.
Cup-bearer: (Hilariously) Gods! How men rant and curse. We in
Egypt exalt our gods, then discard them like old clothes, then
raise them high again, then bring them low...oh, these gods and
goddess'. Egypt is full of them! Mightiest of the gods, Hapi,
Ptah, Khnemu! Beautiful goddess', Nut, Neit, Hathor, Sekhet!
Isis, the Virgin Mother. Osiris, the resurrected god and father.
Horus, the divine son! Hey, tell me, what does your God look
like?
Yusuf: (Murmuring) Like Light.
Cup-bearer: Like our god Ra, the Sun?
Yusuf: No, the pure, virgin Light.
Cup-bearer: Like our goddess Nut then, the queen of the dawn?
Yusuf: (His feet coming to an abrupt halt and his eyes blazing)
No! He has no likeness to anyone! Or Anything. That kind of
Light is not seen by mortal eyes, only through perception. The
purest of the purest! This Light cannot be molded or reflected.
It is Light supreme and Light inviolate.
Cup-bearer: (Eagerly) Where does this Light come from?
Yusuf: From the Essence of Light.
Cup-bearer: Have you seen that Light?
Yusuf: (Knotting his hands behind his back) This Light, naked
as Fear. More dazzling than the sparkle of Love! Abraham saw
this Light. Isaac inherited it. And Jacob my father is guarding
it for me. In turn, I will bestow on...
Cup-bearer: (Quick to snatch the words out of a brief pause)
On your children, I know. That is if you decide to marry before
it is too late! Right now, I am the one who is going to save you
from the glare of light. (Raising his right hand over his head)
Nut, my beautiful goddess, could you please mate with the night
till the fates could awaken us to the call of our own rude
destiny?
{Darkness engulfs the stage. Lights return and the Pharaoh is
seated on his velvet chair, attended by his cup-bearer. Aziz
and Yusuf are seated on the couch, side-by-side. Pharaoh sips
his wine thoughtfully, before commenting aloud.}
Pharaoh: Famine is sore all over the land. Our gods command
that we preserve the grain, and save it for the people of Egypt.
Yusuf: (Brimming with zeal) Great Pharaoh, my God commands
that we feed the world, and let no one go hungry on the face of
this earth.
Pharaoh: (Thundering) And how do you propose to do that, my
wise counselor? Five more years of famine, or there are still
six left?
Aziz: (Murmuring to himself) Gods. Did we ever thank them
when we had seven years of plenty?
Yusuf: (His zeal deflated) Time devours seven years quickly,
Great Pharaoh. And time itself will herald the death of this
famine in no time! The more grain we sell, the more it seems
to multiply in our granaries.
Pharaoh: (His gaze shifting from one to the other) And now
that the money is rendered useless by the very curse of this
famine, what do you sell the grain for?
Yusuf: (Sadly) For asses and cattle. For flocks and horses.
For all herd, Great Pharaoh.
Aziz: (Murmuring again) It seems, Egypt has no dearth of either
grain or viands.
{The cup-bearer, noticing the empty goblets, replenishes them
with mute devotion.}
Pharaoh: And when the supply of cattle fails, what would you
barter it for?
Yusuf: For land, Great Pharaoh. I would give them bread for a
piece of land. And then Great Pharaoh would rule all the
kingdoms far and wide.
Pharaoh: The lands, which yield no crop? The barren lands,
incult and desolate!
Yusuf: (Prophetically) Those lands, Great Pharaoh, would yield
bounteously. Those lands would be purchased in your name, Great
Pharaoh, and you would own the farmers too. I would give them
seed, and they would till and cultivate. Even if they could keep
four fifths of the crop, the fifth would add riches to your
treasuries. Your wealth would grow and multiply. Egypt would
prosper, not only in riches, but in justice and generosity too.
Pharaoh: (Laughing) You are a mighty plotter, my handsome sage!
But tell me, what sad malady clouds your brow? (Shifting his
gaze to Aziz) You tell me, my reticent governor, why this
handsome youth is gloomy and forlorn, of late?
Aziz: He is suffering the pangs of remorse, Great Pharaoh. Or,
rather longing to be with his aged father. Also pining to see
his youngest brother, his name is Benjamin.
Pharaoh: (Reminiscently) I remember now, his brothers, were
they not here a year ago! I myself was witness to their secret
laments, they didn't know Pharaoh could hear them. They were
doing some sort of penance, repenting of their follies past?
Some heinous sin they had committed. I heard them mention
Reuben who had admonished them: I saved you all from a grievous
sin...didn't I say don't shed his blood? And then your brother
Judah was saying: I am the one who said don't slay him, sell
him? I could never forget Judah's voice, Yusuf, deep and hoarse.
Did they tell you how they stained your coat of many colors with
the blood of a wolf. And carried that garment to your father,
telling him that the wolf has devoured you. If it had, we would
have never known you, Yusuf. (Turning his attention to Aziz)
Find a cure to Yusuf's malady, Aziz, and the Pharaoh will reward
you bounteously.
Aziz: (Winsomely) Great Pharaoh, send him to Canaan. To be
with his family is the only cure to his malady.
Pharaoh: (Thoughtfully) No, Pharaoh can't afford to lose him
even for a day! All wisdom, kindness, generosity would abandon
Egypt, if he left. No, a thousand times, no! Would you like to
return to Canaan, Yusuf, tell me, don't fear my denial or
consent.
Yusuf: (Laconically) No, Great Pharaoh.
Pharaoh: A prudent response, Yusuf. Or, you might have invoked
my anger and jealousy. Egypt is your dream, and that's where
you will find the fulfillment of your dream. What was your dream,
you told me, but I forget?
Yusuf: In my dream I saw eleven stars, Great Pharaoh, and the
stars and the Sun and the Moon made obeisance to me.
Pharaoh: (Fervently) Today, I will be your diviner, Yusuf, to
reveal your own dream to you with the words of divine inspiration.
Didn't you tell me you have twelve brothers? You dreamt of
eleven stars, and those eleven stars are your own brothers. The
Moon in your dream is your youngest brother. And the Sun, your
aged father. Now that you are literally ruling Egypt with wisdom
and kindness, they will all come here. And they would kneel
before you, seeking mercy and forgiveness.
Yusuf: (Smiling) Thank you, Great Pharaoh. I am grateful for
your kind words. But I want the love of my brothers, not their
subservience. And my father, if I ever get to see him, I will
be the one kneeling and kissing his feet. Bathing his feet with
tears, until his sweet blessings give me strength to rise to my
feet.
Pharaoh: (To Aziz) I think Yusuf likes not Egypt? What could
we do with this heathen, Aziz? Sadness sits upon his brow like
a curse, and the Pharaoh likes it not.
Aziz: (Genially) Yusuf likes Egypt fairly well, Great Pharaoh,
I am sure of that. Only his love for his father and Benjamin is
breeding inside him like a canker.
Pharaoh: (Rising to his feet abruptly) Then we must pluck this
canker out before it festers. You shall have all, my wise
diviner. Love and riches both, and your wishes fulfilled. You
will be united with your father...and your brothers. Pharaoh
himself will command wagons furnished with costly rugs. And
asses laden with provisions of meat and bread. And raiments of
silk and linen. And chests filled with silver coins. You
yourself, Yusuf, will watch over all these preparations. Then
you will choose worthy men to journey to Canaan along with all
those precious gifts to fetch your father and brothers to Egypt.
They will dwell in the land of Goshen in palaces large and
luxurious.
Yusuf: (Agitated) Pardon me, Great Pharaoh. Your generosity
moves me and I am grateful. But I must decline such costly gifts.
My brothers...and my father too...they will come if it is
ordained.
Pharaoh: (Imperiously) O wretch ingrate! Must you invoke the
rage of the Pharaoh? And Pharaoh must shackle thee to his own
will, in Egypt, in Egypt! A small potion to your sadness, I
myself must concoct. You must be wedded to Asenath. The wait
has been too long. Pharaoh commands it.
Yusuf: (Plea shining in his eyes) Only God...
Pharaoh: (Thundering) In this land of Egypt, Pharaoh is--God!
And he must be obeyed.
Yusuf: (Murmuring) My father must see his beloved son wedded
thus...
Aziz: (To himself) A wedding at last.
Pharaoh: (Raising his right arm over his head) Pharaoh--the
God, commands darkness.
{All men are swallowed in darkness. When the lights return,
Yusuf is seated on the couch with his face cradled in his hands.
His fingers are pressed to his temples, as if he is trying to
crush his thoughts to oblivion. Zulaikha appears on the stage,
arrayed in blue silks. Her hair is braided with diamonds.}
Zulaikha: Heartless as ever, dear Yusuf! Are you still bound
to your vow of celibacy?
Yusuf: (Entranced) I am wedded to my Beloved...in Truth.
Zulaikha: If Truth be truth, Yusuf, then you are corrupted.
Sinfully corrupted! Truth, as you men prophesy, is God! And
God, as you men believe, is male, isn't that the truth? Then
your Beloved is as barren as me, breeding no fruits of love, but
the mists of a sad delusion. Such wedlock most despised! Is it
fated that I must remain the object of mockery? Unloved and
rejected! But mind you, this grieves me no more. Your sadness
of late, cuts through me like a sword. (Lowering herself on the
other end of the couch) Betrothed to Asenath, are you not?
Pharaoh has power over you, and that makes him happy, commanding
men even in the arena of love? Are you in love, with beautiful
Asenath, I mean?
Yusuf: (Murmuring) Yes, in love, with Truth again, and sadness
too! (Begins to pace)
Zulaikha: (Sadly) I know your sadness, Yusuf, and your soul
too. Mine own reaching out and being repulsed. Seven years of
plenty...a long, long century I have ever lived through! You
becoming indispensable to the Pharaoh, and a stranger to me?
Now a second year of famine, is that right? And you the god of
wisdom and benevolence! The last time I saw you like this was
when your brothers had come from Canaan to buy food. And you,
the suffered and the suffering, always, is that it? How you
filled their sacks with corn, returning their money too, inside
the sacks! Didn't you demand that they must bring their youngest
brother with them if they ever return to Egypt to buy more food?
I hear, they have come back. Have they brought your beloved
Benjamin with them?
{Yusuf keeps pacing, only darting one feverish look at Zulaikha.
She continues softly as if coaxing a child.}
Zulaikha: Are you suffering, Yusuf? I mean, longing to see
your father? His name is Jacob, didn't you say that? I hear,
he is wise, and loving. Kind and compassionate, even to the
sinners?
Yusuf: (Speaking to himself in some sort of daze) Yes, to my
sinful brothers, he is kind and loving. The brothers who wronged
me, and him! Separated me from my father, much to his grief and
disconsolation! My father, he has grown old, I hear. Old and
blind. Weeping all those years...thinking me dead...devoured by
a wolf. And now, a base wretch that I am, I am plotting evil
schemes to reveal myself to my brothers. To let them know in
some wicked fashion that, yes, I am Yusuf whom they wronged.
To take them back to the scene of their own crime when they
tossed me into a dry well, then they sold me to the Ishmeelites.
(In some fit of frenzy and passion) I am no god, Zulaikha as you
deem me to be. I am a wicked, sinful man! Let me reveal my own
evil nature and wickedness to you. Last night, I filled the sacks
of my brothers with corn again, their money too, concealed in there.
But in the sack of Benjamin, I dropped my silver cup. When my
brothers loaded their saddlebags on their camels, I dispatch
ed a steward after them. Proclaiming that the king's cup is
stolen. My brothers swore that they had not stolen anything.
They were willing to let the steward search their bags. Also,
pledging their honor that if anyone of them was found guilty of
a theft, he would become the king's slave, at his mercy to die
or live! It was my design, the way I had pictured it to myself,
so that I could keep Benjamin with me. When the cup was found
in Benjamin's sack, my brothers started weeping and pleading.
That was when I made myself known to them. And yet, my evil
plot was dissolved in my own tears. I was the one, imploring
them to fetch my father, nay, the whole household of Jacob to
Egypt. They will dwell in the land of Goshen, as Pharaoh
promised. But my brothers, they don't believe me, they fear me?
Thinking, that I will wreak vengeance in the end? (Throwing
his arms up desperately) God, you are my witness, no spark of
vengeance breathes in my heart. I love you God, my God. I fear
you alone, my God!
Zulaikha: (Moved and puzzled) Why do you fear your God if you
love Him?
Yusuf: (Feverishly) God! Yes. Why do I love and fear him
both? I guess, for His own designs of Grace and vengeance,
which are inconceivable.
Zulaikha: (Murmuring) Love is not fear. It is pure bliss.
Absolute surrender.
Yusuf: (Incredulously) How Truth speaks through the lips of a
beautiful woman is a miracle of God Himself! I need to wallow
in my own Ignorance. Yes, wise Zulaikha, how I may suffer love--
in fear, to absolve my sufferings.
Zulaikha: Is fear greater than love, Yusuf? Or, is there any
wisdom in suffering?
Yusuf: Parables all! God is one, and the belief in oneness of
God is wisdom--and suffering? In that realm of cosmic belief,
both Love and Fear are as incomprehensible as the invisible
stars of blind Faith.
Zulaikha: (Smiling) Is your God a happy God, or a sad One?
God of joy, or God of grief? Of mercy, or of vengeance? Could
He be the God of both evil and good? Of Light and Darkness? Of
wrath and kindness? Of hatred and compassion?
Yusuf: (Dejectedly) A God of Hope, I hope?
Zulaikha: (Laughing suddenly) Then cast away your fears, Yusuf.
You will suffer no more!
Yusuf: (Flinging himself on the couch hopelessly) Yes, my God
will have mercy on me. On my brothers too. And on the house of
Jacob. We will be reunited. My God forgives. He is the most
merciful, the most forgiving. He forgives His sons!
Zulaikha: (Snatching Yusuf's hand into her own) May I pray to
your God, Yusuf? (Closes her eyes) Forgive me, God. But may I
plead a boon? Do you bestow mercy on daughters, as well as on
sons?
The Curtain
MARTITA
SÓLO UNA IDEA...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Se fuga, en silencio
una idea de mi cabeza.
De puntillas y sin hacer apenas ruido,
se desliza hasta otro cerebro.
Afinca sus apoyos,
aletarga su existencia,
y así se comunica.
Se expande, como el sonido
hasta rebotar contra otros ideales.
Lucha a muerte,
una contra otra,
hasta que la más fuerte se impone.
Y mientres quede alguien
a quien poder avasallar,
continuará sin pausa
la mejor manera de hablar.
AN IDEA ONLY...
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Silently, an idea
escapes my head.
On tiptoe and with barely a sound,
it slides toward another brain.
It establishes its supports,
makes its existence lethargic ,
and communicates thus.
It expands, like sound
until it bounces against other ideals.
A fight to the death,
one against the other,
until the strongest one prevails.
And as long as anyone remains
who can be conquered,
it will continue without pause
the best way to speak.
TIERRA
Tierra trágame,
cómeme
y no me dejes salir.
Hazme tu prisionera
para siempre,
eterna.
Quiero dormir
en tu negro
lecho de arena ,
y morirme
en tus brazos
de dolor.
Cógeme,
llévame contigo
hasta que la Luna salga.
No quiero ser parte
del planeta
sin historia;
por eso tómame,
apriétame
contra tus enfurecidos senos.
Hazme desaparecer
durante un siglo,
o una vida entera.
Irme lejos,
al origen
de la esfera,
y morirme,
morirme en tu cuerpo,
en tu alma.
EARTH
~~~~~
Earth swallow me,
eat me
don't let me leave.
Make me your prisoner
forever,
eternal.
I want to sleep
in your black
bed of sand ,
and die
of sorrow
in your arms.
Take me,
carry me with you
until the moon comes out.
I don't want to be part
of the planet
without history;
so take me,
squeeze me
against your enraged breasts.
Make me disappear
for a century,
or an entire life.
To go far,
to the beginning
of the sphere,
and die,
die in your body,
in your soul.
S K Iyer
In The Desert
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the desert,
In search of shade,
I wandered,
And I found
My shadow!
In search of refuge
In my shadow
I tried in vain
To find shelter
In my own shade!
Had you been with me,
I'd have found
Shade in yours,
And you
In my shadow!
So is life,
As I see it,
Looking for shadow
And living
In another's shade!

Danielle Wolferd
The Morning Routine
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I open my eyes to find him rising:
Coffee with milk, sugar too,
Muscles stretching through
the arms that held me last night.
Hands, fingers extended, stretched toward heaven;
The back of his head: curly swirls of fudge chocolate chip. I
want a double dip;
waffle cone, please.
Long, lean legs: mine used to look like that.
Still the Mr. must possess a Doberman, Pit Bull, or Rothwieler--maybe.
Same moves; I like to sleep
right across the morning, waiting for the day unfold its warmth.
I close my eyes.
A morning dove is sitting on our bedroom window.

A New Age: The Centipede Network Of
Artists, Poets, & Writers
An Informational Journey Into A Creative Echonet [9310]
(C) CopyRight "I Write, Therefore, I Develop" By Paul
Lauda

Come one, come all! Welcome to Newsgroup alt.centipede. Established
just for writers, poets, artists, and anyone who is creative. A
place for anyone to participate in, to share their poems, and
learn from all. A place to share *your* dreams, and philosophies.
Even a chance to be published in a magazine.
The original Centipede Network was created on May 16, 1993.
Created because there were no other networks dedicated to such
an audience, and with the help of Klaus Gerken, Centipede soon
started to grow, and become active on many world-wide Bulletin
Board Systems.
We consider Centipede to be a Public Network; however, its a
specialized network, dealing with any type of creative thinking.
Therefore, that makes us something quite exotic, since most nets
are very general and have various topics, not of interest to a
writer--which is where Centipede steps in! No more fuss. A writer
can now access, without phasing out any more conferences, since
the whole net pertains to the writer's interests. This means
that Centipede has all the active topics that any creative
user seeks. And if we don't, then one shall be created.
Feel free to drop by and take a look at newsgroup alt.centipede

Ygdrasil is committed to making literature available, and uses the
Internet as the main distribution channel. On the Net you can find all
of Ygdrasil including the magazines and collections. You can find
Ygdrasil on the Internet at:
* WEB: http://users.synapse.net/~kgerken/
* FTP: ftp://ftp.synapse.net/~kgerken/
* USENET: releases announced in rec.arts.poems, alt.zines and
alt.centipede
* EMAIL: send email to kgerken@synapse.net and tell us what version
and method you'd like. We have two versions, an uncompressed
7-bit universal ASCII and an 8-bit MS-DOS lineart-enchanced
version. These can be sent plaintext, uuencoded, or as a
MIME-attachment.

All poems copyrighted by their respective authors. Any reproduction of
these poems, without the express written permission of the authors, is
prohibited.
YGDRASIL: A Journal of the Poetic Arts - Copyright (c) 1993, 1994, 1995,
1996, 1997 & 1998 by Klaus J. Gerken.
The official version of this magazine is available on Ygdrasil's
World-Wide Web site http://users.synapse.net/~kgerken. No other
version shall be deemed "authorized" unless downloaded from there.
Distribution is allowed and encouraged as long as the issue is unchanged.
All checks should be made out to: YGDRASIL PRESS
COMMENTS
* Klaus Gerken, Chief Editor - for general messages and ASCII text
submissions. Use Klaus' address for commentary on Ygdrasil and its
contents: kgerken@synapse.net
* Pedro Sena, Production Editor - for submissions of anything
that's not plain ASCII text (ie. archives, GIFs, wordprocessored
files, etc) in any standard DOS, Mac or Unix format, commentary on
Ygdrasil's format, distribution, usability and access:
art@accces.com
We'd love to hear from you!
Or mailed with a self addressed stamped envelope, to: